


hands no longer an afterthought

by hubrisandwax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Blowjobs, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, In Universe, Lots of kissing, M/M, PWP, Post-Canon, handjobs, post 15x20, pretty much ngl, there isn't really much talking but i figured that happened Before, they're so in love it's gross, this is Dean and Cas having sex for the first time basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubrisandwax/pseuds/hubrisandwax
Summary: the one where Dean and Cas have sex for the first time (after 15x18-15x20).post 15x20 partial fix it
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	hands no longer an afterthought

**Author's Note:**

> so i accidentally tripped and fell back into Supernatural and Dean/Cas after a 5-6 year hiatus from the fandom because of the confession. oops. and what a better way to ensure i get well and truly stuck by writing porn.
> 
> this fic is canon compliant, but doesn't resolve a lot of stuff. it's literally just sex because i couldn't stop myself (i just wanted some vaguely realistic first time comfort). i might try and tie it in with a proper post 15x20 fix it, because who isn't angry about the finale, right (i have one planned don't @ me). so i've posted this as a oneshot.
> 
> thank you so much to [Jen/wehangout](https://wehangout.tumblr.com/) and [Hobey/sevensided](https://sevensided.tumblr.com/) for holding my hand and reading through this for me to make sure it didn't totally suck, especially since they don't even go here.
> 
> posted to tumblr [here](). hope you enjoy.

The first time they have sex it's awkward, and messy, and entirely not what Dean was expecting.

It doesn't matter how they reached this moment after Castiel's confession; the Empty; Dean’s return to Earth. It only matters that they're here now, in the bunker, in Dean's room. Dean is very much alive, and Cas is achingly human, biting bloodflowers into Dean's neck and grinding down on his erection with no abandon.

"Twelve fucking years," Cas murmurs into Dean's collarbone. His deep voice is rougher than usual - husky. Dean tries to stop the hysterical bubble of laughter that threatens its way up his throat. He almost can't believe it, that they’re actually here, in his bed, touching and groaning and going at it like teenagers. Can’t believe that they’re finally on the same page.

Cas pushes them further up the bed, but doesn't seem quite sure what to do with his limbs. He's trying to undo Dean's shirt, fingers fumbling on the second button, and nearly knees Dean in the balls in the process. Dean's so aroused he can barely see, but flinches away and says, "Woah, easy there, Casanova." He's surprised by the rawness in his tone; he sounds almost as desperate and wanting as he feels.

Cas huffs out an awkward, frustrated laugh and looks uncharacteristically self-conscious as he hovers over Dean. 

"I'm sorry," he says softly, looking away. "I'm not, you know ..."

As far as Dean is concerned, what Cas lacks in experience he makes up for in enthusiasm. He doesn't say this. Instead he moves a hand to Cas' jaw and rubs a thumb across the high crest of his cheekbone.

"Hey, look at me." Cas reluctantly turns his intense blue gaze to Dean. They study each other; Dean can’t stop staring at the perfect, stupidly delicate cupid’s bow of Cas’ mouth. After a beat, Dean drags his eyes back to Cas’ and whispers: "This is us, okay, Cas? We're good."

Cas is so gorgeous in the half-light that it takes his breath away.

Tension bleeds from Cas' body the longer Dean holds him. Too soon, he rolls off Dean to lay beside him, those blue eyes fixed on the ceiling. He touches Dean's wrist with light fingertips. "I just never thought we'd be here. Never thought I could have --" Cas’ hand folds as he presses closer into Dean's side. Softly, like some kind of confession, he says: "Now all I want is for it to be good for you."

Cas sounds so earnest that it almost breaks Dean's heart. This grumpy, sassy, intelligent, beautiful, obtuse ex-angel of the fucking Lord is too much, sometimes. Often.

“We’ll take it slow,” Dean says into Cas’ hair. He smells of Dean’s shampoo and something sweeter, like warmed milk. Tastes like coffee and _Cas_. “We’ve been waiting twelve years, like you said. A few more minutes won’t hurt.”

Cas shifts until he can look up at Dean, and he rolls his eyes, huffing. Dean pushes himself up on one elbow and presses his lips against the corner of Cas’ mouth. Cas returns the gesture by tilting his head and kissing Dean back; Dean moans into Cas’ mouth. Cas keeps making these little keening noises as they kiss; tiny, unconscious whines from the back of his throat. It drives Dean crazy. They kiss slowly with no intent until they’re both lying on their sides, Cas’ hands pressing at Dean’s tummy under his shirt and Dean’s hands on Cas' ass. 

Cas pulls away, breathless, lips bitten and wine red, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide. “You’re so beautiful,” he says reverently, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying the words out loud. Dean clenches his jaw and swallows. Unable to pull his eyes from Cas’, he’s mesmerized by blue, blue, too much blue; endless midwestern summer skies. Cas’ fingers start to tug against the zipper of Dean’s pants as his mouth trails wet, messy kisses down Dean’s chest. It’s almost too much and not enough at once as Cas breathes against Dean’s cock, still trapped in his underwear. Cas reaches for Dean’s nipples, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his entire life, hands fisting against the sheets and his body arching off the mattress into Cas’ touch.

As Cas pulls Dean’s underwear down to expose his cock, Dean all but groans: “Want you naked.” Reaching for the buttons on Cas’s shirt, he’s as clumsy as Cas was earlier, pawing at them but getting nowhere with shaky fingers. Cas is equally impatient and manages to rip one off entirely by accident. There are too many clothes, Dean thinks desperately, trying to kick off his pants and pull Cas’ shirt off his shoulders at the same time. 

Cas seems to mostly give up on the battle once his shirt is unbuttoned. He fists Dean’s cock, own pants around his thighs. It’s too tight and rough, at first; Dean is oversensitive. He hisses. Cas looks apologetic and releases his grip, leaning down to whisper, “Tell me what you want,” into Dean’s ear. 

“You,” Dean says on exhale, feeling his mouth slide into a grin. Cas sighs dramatically and strokes Dean’s cock again, slower and gentler this time, and Dean’s not so keen on joking anymore. “Yeah, like that, Cas; fuck.”

With the same intensity Cas uses to approach tasks he thinks are important (like ganking demons, researching cases, plotting against Heaven and Hell), he pushes his mouth down over the head of Dean’s cock. He makes a face at what Dean assumes is the taste of precum, lips turning down at the corners and eyelids fluttering. Dean can’t stop watching him, mouth open in an endless O, hand reaching to touch Cas’ hair. Cas hollows his cheeks and the pressure is all wrong, and there’s almost teeth, and Cas nearly chokes when he moves too far down the shaft and has to pull off, frowning and frustrated and swallowing for air. It’s also so, so right because it’s _Cas’_ mouth on his cock; _Cas’_ hands too tight on his hips; _Cas’_ eyes meeting his own. It’s so good because it’s _Cas_.

Then Cas is moving away, lining up their cocks and wrapping his fist around both of them, using his spit for lubrication. “I want to see you,” he says by way of explanation. Dean wraps his own hand around Cas’ in affirmation and they find a steady rhythm together. Soon Dean is open-limbed and panting, his train of thought spilling from his mouth, a litany of _fuck, yeah, Cas; you’re so hot, so gorgeous, so good for me, sweetheart; wanted you for so long like this._ He doesn’t really know what he’s saying, except Cas looks wrecked, hand and hips losing rhythm as Dean talks. He’s pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and rolls it between his teeth, eyes unfixed and unblinking, cheeks flushed deep pink, the color creeping down his neck and across his chest. Dean wants, and wants, and wants. He takes.

Cas leans down and sucks Dean’s tongue into his mouth, and then Dean’s orgasm is hitting him like a sucker punch to the gut, hard and fast and overwhelming. Dean shudders, mind whiting out, Cas’ name on his lips.

He opens his eyes to Cas watching him, looking awed, like Dean is the most beautiful thing in existence, Cas’ hand on his own cock stilled. Dean feels raw and vulnerable and undone, but also safe and strangely complete. When he thinks he can manage words again, he says gently: “Your turn, Cas,” and stretches out towards Cas’ cock. Cas kisses him again, pressing the length of his body against Dean’s side. Now Dean isn’t blinded by his own desire, he can afford to take Cas apart piece by piece.

Cas deserves to feel good. Cas deserves everything and more.

Starting with the skin behind Cas’ ear, Dean licks and presses kisses to the dip of skin between Cas’ neck and shoulder; the soft hollow of his clavicle; the smooth undulation of his pectoral. He’s flushed red and lovely like this, rosy hues against honeyed skin. The bedside lamp casts a halo behind his head, hair smudging like charcoal into the light, the electric blue of his eyes glinting.

“Show me,” Cas says like it’s a challenge, the words shaky but firm. Dean stares at him from under his lashes and smiles. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Cas exhales slowly. 

Nosing at Cas’s bellybutton, he mouths at the firm muscle of his abdominals and the trail of hair that curls down from his tummy. He watches Cas carefully as he takes Cas into his mouth in one smooth motion and hollows his cheeks. Cas’ hips buck up into his mouth. Dean curls his fingers across Cas’ hip bones, pressing his ass back into the mattress, getting used to the length and girth of him. He tastes musty and bitter; Dean loves it, all of it. Loves Cas utterly and without reservation. 

He uses his grip on Cas’ hips and encourages him to fuck into his mouth, slowly at first, then lets him build up his own pace as Dean pulls his lips over his teeth. Cas thrusts enthusiastically, erratically, almost whimpering as the head of his cock hits the back of Dean’s throat. Dean swallows around it. Cas starts saying Dean’s name, a single broken syllable; Dean groans around Cas’s cock in his mouth, dick trying to twitch with interest. At 42, though, he’d be lucky.

It doesn’t take long for Cas to come. Dean swallows everything down, trying not to choke on the bitterness, and licks Cas clean. Cas has that expression back on his face, like Dean is something precious and beautiful. He crawls up the bed, presses his nose into the underside of Cas’ jaw, and breathes.

“You’ve ruined me,” Cas murmurs warmly into his hair, pressing a kiss into his hairline. It almost sounds like some kind of prayer. “I wouldn’t change a single thing.” He pauses; a heartbeat. “I love you, Dean.”

The words don’t make Dean panic the same way they did in the days after, when he expected something black and oozing to come to try and take Cas away from him again. Instead he feels overwarm and slightly uncomfortable, like beating wings are trying to escape through his sternum. Butterflies are what the chick flicks call them, he supposes. He likes them. 

Dean kisses whatever skin he can reach in response.

Time stretches between them, sticky and thick and slow, like the hours in a lazy summer afternoon. Cas was right about them all those months ago, when he confronted Dean in that office after he had learned about Chuck. Confronted Dean to try and reassure him, despite the fact that Dean had said Cas was all but dead to him. Cas is the best thing that’s ever happened to him - he knows that now. Cas has always been himself; achingly sincere - terrifyingly real.

Dean thinks Cas may have fallen asleep, but he says, “We have so much to make up for.” Cas shifts slightly and hums in response; Dean feels it through Cas’ bones. 

The sex may not have been was Dean was expecting, but it was still the best he’s ever had. Not because of technique or finesse or because it was exactly what he likes, but because it was _Cas_ ; his best friend, his endless salvation, his warrior of heaven in borrowed human skin. It’s taken them twelve goddamn years, but for this? Totally fucking worth it.

“Cas?” he says as he drifts between the edges of consciousness. He waits for affirmation, waits until Cas shifts his mouth against Dean’s forehead. It’s not even a kiss - mostly a rush of air. The furrows of his brow tingle. “Love you, too.” He presses the words into Cas’ skin, hoping to sear them into flesh and bone, because oh how he loves him. 

The words are his, and they’re the realest thing he’s ever said.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Little Beasts by Richard Siken (i know it's overdone but i love him still).
> 
> come help cushion my fall back into fandom @ [hubrisandwax.tumblr.com](https://hubrisandwax.tumblr.com/) (i love new friends <3)


End file.
